Where was the Warning?
by armageddon-incarnate
Summary: [Bare, a Pop Opera] Peter struggles to move on. PostBare.


Where was the Warning?

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A/n: Another Barefic. I know I change tenses midway through. Oh well. I'll change it one day, just not one day soon.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bare; Jon Hartmere Jr. and Damon Intrabartlo do.

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As I look at the cold granite of his gravestone, I wonder; why? What caused it? There was no note, and yet he knew that taking too much of Lucas' 'wonder drug' would kill him. Even if it was because he was upset because of our argument, he knew Sister Chantelle would kill him if he went onstage high. The drugs were supposed to be for afterward. So what would compel him to take them? Unless he meant to overdoes.

Which brings me back to my original question- why? They say you can usually tell if someone is suicidal. So why couldn't I?

Because the moment Jason began his downward spiral was the moment I decided I was going to start standing up for myself, and do what I thought needed to be done.

Never again.

When people say never again, usually it means 'never again… until next time.' I know I mean 'never again, forever.' I have seen the disasters that happen when someone takes it upon themselves to do what they think is right.

We file past his grave silently. Ivy is clinging to some boy, wiping tears away with a Kleenex. I watch her for a moment, anger bubbling up in the pit of my stomach. Not only did she sleep with my boyfriend, but she's now carrying his child, and yet, at his funeral nonetheless, she's clinging to another man.

Shifting my gaze to Matt, I find him staring dumbly at the ground right by Jason's headstone. It's almost as if he still hasn't really realized that Jason is dead, like he's expecting for him to pop out of the ground, laugh, and tell the funeral goers how well he got them with his practical joke.

Nadia is with her parents, not crying, just standing up straight, her eyes glued straight ahead, purposefully avoiding looking at the grave.

The funeral is over. We file respectfully away. I get into the car with my mother, and sit in silence as we drive back to St. Cecilia's. I've graduated, but I haven't moved out of my dorm room. When we arrive, I climb out and my mother pokes her head out the window.

"Peter honey," she says, trying to make her voice sound the same as it did a year ago. She fails dismally. "I'm going to talk to Father briefly. Can you pack up by yourself?"

"Yeah," I reply simply. Without another word, she pulls away, leaving me alone. Slowly, still numb from the funeral, I begin climbing stairs.

I've climbed this staircase so many times, it's almost automatic. I close my eyes, and I can clearly see myself climbing them for the first time, terrified of having to live with a complete stranger. And then I met Jason, and all my fears were vanquished.

All my memories of Jason involve that staircase at some point. How my heart would pound when I climbed, wondering if he was at the top, waiting for me to walk through the door, wondering how he would look at me, hoping those perfect lips would form themselves into that smile I would have gladly died for. Hoping those strong arms would wrap around me and hold me tightly in the dizzying embrace that I would never want to end. The memory was so strong, my heart began to race.

I arrived at the wooden door, the door to our secret hideaway, the door to my heart. He always got there before me- he was an athlete, after all, and his strong legs were faster than mine. I paused at the door, knowing that on the other side sat the love of my life. Putting on my sunniest smile for him, I grabbed the door-handle, almost ripped it off its hinges, stepped through and saw…

Nothing. No beautiful eyes. No devilish smile. No soul mate. No lover. No boyfriend. No roommate. No Jason.

It was as if an earthquake had struck. I think I literally reeled from shock. Starts burst in front of my eyes, like I'd been hit by a long. And I had. The log of reality.

It washed over me in waves. My knees shook, no longer able to support what was, essentially, my deadweight. I slumped to the ground. He wasn't there.

Holy fuck, I was alone.

How… why… I knew all those answers, and yet nothing connected. Nothing clicked. I couldn't comprehend.

Dead.

It was such a small word, such an insignificant word, and yet… It was causing my ruin.

How could he? How could he? How could he go where I could not follow? I raised my eyes to the whirring ceiling fan spinning lazily on the ceiling above me. How could he go where I could not follow?

And yet, I realize, I could.

The fan was sturdy. It would hold me. And if it didn't, we were on the fifth floor. There were ways, so many ways I could follow Jason, I could be with my Jason again.

I could… I could see him again.

I trembled. The though of just looking keep into his beautiful, beautiful eyes was enough tot make me want to throw myself out of that window.

Without another through, I grabbed a belt. I could attach myself… No, not a belt, a tie, that one over there-

His tie.

I froze. His tied, striped blue and yellow, a tie he hated. And here I was, going to hang myself with it. Was I really serious? I ached for him with every part of my being, yes, but was I really about to give up my entire life for him?

Yes. Of course I was. This was Jason we were talking about. He would do the same for me.

And yet, would he? Jason valued life and enjoying life, living in the moment, above everything else in his life. He wouldn't kill himself. He'd dedicate his life to preserving my memory, and carry on.

I was not Jason.

The two voices in my head yelled and argued bitterly, until I felt sick to my stomach. Not really caring anymore, I stumbled over to his bed and collapsed upon it, burying my head deep into his pillow and smelling his sweet scent. I began to cry.

I wanted my Jason back.

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A/n: Did you like it? Please review. That would make me happy. 


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